Heather Oakley Beltran an innocent Christian girl, the most purest and Holden Parker a quiet and serious boy who's completely lost and hurt by his past.
How can two such different souls learn to love one another?
Sometimes all God does is let two c...
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The roses were growing perfectly. There wasn't a single rose that was blemishing or sign of dying. They looked absolutely beautiful with its tall stems. Mom said that the key to keeping flowers healthy and growing were to speak to them like if they were little children. They apparently had emotions like us humans. I enjoyed speaking to them, they felt like my little bundle of friends. It was a deep satisfying love for them I had. Ever since a toddler my mom said I never failed in picking out the of flowers in parks, neighbors' gardens, even grocery stores. Long story short, I never got back home without a single flower in hand as a toddler.
And it wasn't just any flower that I looked for. It was specifically roses that got my biggest attention.
I loved that it was the deepest color of red. I liked that they were very feminine, pure looking. Not to mention they always showcased love and affection. Who couldn't love flowers such as these? Precisely this was my other method of therapy when feeling down. It was simply very therapeutic watering them and speaking to them.
With a little more water on the roots I stood up from my squat and looked for any missed spots on the rest of the roots. It was a huge fear of mine having overwatered them or under water them since both of these mistakes could make the root rot and obviously kill them. That wasn't happening on my watch.
Not today, satan.
Having finished taking care of the roses I went back into the house to wash my hands. I winced as the warmness of the water cascaded down my palm. I looked to see what was causing the hot slicing pain and surely there was a huge cut on the inside of my palm. "Great." I grabbed the towel from the kitchen and dabbed off the blood, placing pressure onto it.
I was in the bathroom placing a bandage on the cut when the phone began to ring. "Yes?" I placed the phone between my shoulder and ear, working to place the bandage on my hand.
"I'm outside...why do you sound like that?" Braylee's voice sounded through the phone.
"Crap what time is it?"
"Um...seven forty-five."
"Shoot, I'll be right out. Ok, bye." This was the ultimate downfall on waking up late. I didn't even get to go on my morning walk this morning. Yesterday Braylee and I stayed up almost the whole night, talking about Holden and demolishing the whole pizza my mom had bought. Braylee even went as far to call her mom to ask if she could stay a little longer in which she was not happy about so that's why we passed the phone to my mom. Sooner than later she ended up agreeing to Braylee staying longer even though we had to convince my mom to agree to it. And now my mom suspected we were up talking about boys. I was positive that she might've heard sections of our conversation last night.
Now that was something I had to think of telling her before she begins assuming I'm keeping big secrets from her.
"Sorry." I said as soon as I got into the car, dropping my bag on the backseat.
